Arise
by TacticianZephine
Summary: The story of Prowl's rise to power. Prequel to Iron Fist, Iron Clad, Reign of Steel. Spoilers for the mentioned fic. Don't read this without reading the other one.
1. Wounded

**Prequel's up. Writing is an illness. I've spent an hour and a half on this damn thing. I intend to explore many questioned posed to me, starting with one that actually bothered me. Originially, Prowl was lying about having an injury, but I decided that he wasn't.**

* * *

Prowl shut the door to his private library and crossed to a shelf he barely ever touched. He pulled an older tablet from the shelf and took it down. He tapped it to life and looked over the files contained within.

He turned and walked back toward his chair in the corner, but roughly halfway across the room, his left knee hitched and gave out. He hit the floor with a loud _clank_.

Prowl didn't move, he sighed and just laid there. The struts and joint gears in his knee would realign soon enough, if he kept it straight and stayed still. He cursed the solarcycle this had happened, however.

**  
_He'd been promoted from star detective to reclusive if not somewhat eccentric Chief of Police. This meant he actually had to be involved in field work now, well, on occasion._

_"Chief! We got a shooting downtown, suspect's on the run, drones in pursuit, but he's a pretty slipp'ry mech!" Nightbeat reported._

_Prowl glanced up, then rose. "I want all units on his tail. I'll be out myself in two cycles."_

_"Yessir."_

_The mech, a petty thief, controlled-substance dealer, and convicted rapist on parole by the name of Barricade, was surrounded. Prowl stood just inside the circle of officers all pointing their rifles at Barricade._

_"Barricade, you're not getting out of this on your own. You're either leaving this circle in stasis cuffs or in a compaction cube," Prowl said softly. "Now, I think you'd rather leave it alive."_

_"Like the Pit. You think I care anymore?" Barricade growled._

_"I know you do. You care about your business. Females. Getting so damn overcharged, you forget who you are..." Prowl smirked. "Your mother."_

_"You shut your glitch mouth!"_

_"You watch yours. There's ladies present. Now, are you going to come quietly?"_

_Barricade looked for a moment as if he was going to, but instead pounced on Prowl, slamming him to the ground._

_Prowl threw him off, getting back up and going for his rifle, which had skittered across the ground when he was tackled. Barricade grabbed his ankle, yanking as he stood. He got Prowl part of the way to the ground, and proceeded to smash his knee joint, snapping it backward over his thigh as if it were a dowel._

_Prowl let out a yell of pain and used his good leg to kick Barricade off, then yelled to his circle of subordinates. "What are you waiting for, idiots?! Open fire!"_

_Innumerable shots rang out, and finally, one voice shouted out. "Got him!"_

_It was Prowl's ex-partner, a femme by the name of Slipstream. She let some of the others handle Barricade's remains while she approached the fallen cop._

_"I thought we talked about this," she teasingly scolded him._

_"No. We... talked about __**you**__ getting __**shot**__," he corrected her. "This is different."_

_"You've got me, Chief. I've got a medic on the way."_

_"Son of a glitch broke my knee."_

_"It's shattered."_

_"I didn't need to hear that."_

_"Probably won't ever heal right."_

_"Slipstream."_

_"You'll never walk again."_

_"I know where you live."_

_"You'll be crippled for the rest of your life."_

_"Now you're overdoing it."_

_"You might even lose the leg."_

_"I am your superior."_

**  
He felt the joint gears click back into place, and carefully stood, picking up the tablet. He limped over to his chair and pulled the foot rest over, propping his leg up, and starting to read over the tablet.


	2. Slave, Part One

**I promise, they won't all be Prowl's memory chapters, but this one was too good. Plus, I love watching him play Ember for a sucker. Or that's just her being loyal. She's like a puppy or something. Lookit her.**

**Brain candy included for Ninecrow, she knows what I mean.**

* * *

Prowl heard a knock on the door, and looked up from his tablet. "Enter!"

Ember peered around the door. "Hello."

"Oh, Ember. You're early."

"I try, sir. Do you need anything?" she offered.

"No, I'm f... actually, I'm overdue for my midsolar astringent, and my knee's locked again." He looked up at her in a falsely pathetic manner. "Would you be a darling and get it for me?"

"Oh..." She gave him the most sincere look of actual sympathy ever given in the history of the planet. Ever. "Right away, sir."

"Make a cup for yourself as well, you look overwrought."

"Sir, I-"

"I insist."

"Yes sir." She turned and slipped out of the room.

Prowl watched her leave, fondly remembering how he'd first met his lovely "personal assistant".

**  
_"With my promotion, the city council wants me to renew my certification, which technically means observing prisoners. But, I feel that in order to be prepared for anything, I should observe a hardcore psychotic."_

_"Sir... all of our maximum security patients are __**extremely**__ dangerous..."_

_"Precisely. I'll need to see your most dangerous one. If I can survive an interview and subsequent quartexes of observation and follow-up interviews with him, I'll be more than qualified to do my job."_

_The attractive nurse bit her lip, but nodded. "All right... but I warn you, sir... he may kill you. If he attacks, do not let him get behind you, and, at all costs, do not let him get his hands around your neck, because then, he __**will**__ kill you."_

**_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!_**

_It took three burly security guards and the nurse to pull the mech off of Prowl. The nurse supported him out, while the guards subdued the patient._

_She sat him down on a bench in the nurses' station. "Are you all right, sir?"_

_"... Yes, fine... at least... I will be... in a klik or two." He leaned back and shuttered his optics for a moment. "Primus... I'm so done with contact. Give me interviews with suspects anytime."_

_"Let me do something about your head." The nurse moved across the small space to the cabinet, and Prowl noticed a few marks on her back._

_"Are you seeing anyone, Miss?"_

_"I have just had a... rather unfortunate break-up, actually. We were in a very difficult situation. I am quite glad to be shot of him."_

_"He hit you?"_

_"Pardon?"_

_"Your back."_

_She remained silent, then sat back down on the stool beside him with a First Aid Kit and began to tend to his head._

_"It is difficult to explain to those who do not understand," she said after a klik. "I must ask: do you really want to know?"_

_"I'm a little intrigued, yes."_

_"That is not a good enough answer. I do not feel it is my place to tell you, if you are not certain you want the knowledge." She poured a little peroxide onto a cloth and daubed it over the wound. "You are welcome to research the topic. Or, if you rather, there... ahem, there is a certain club in the city's underground that may be of use to you in visual explanation."_

_He looked her over. She was a skinny thing, average height, amythest optics, and paint the color of a starless night. A blue ponytail-type attachment jutted off of the back of her head. "Thank you, Miss...?"_

_"Ember."_

_"It's lovely to be formally introduced. In fact... since you're single... would you care to accompany me to a bit of a social gathering next quartex?"_

_"I believe this is your head injury speaking. We barely know each other." She stood, taking the kit back to the cabinet, and helping him to his feet. "It was lovely meeting you, but I have a job to do. Good bye, sir. Hope will walk you out."_

_With that, Prowl was handed over to a bubbly pink female._

**  
Ember peered around the door again with a tray, and clicked her glossa again. "Sir? I have your astringent..."

"Bring it here."

She sat on her cushion by his chair, and offered the tray up to him.

He took it, putting it on the small table on the other side of the chair, and patted her head tenderly. "Good female."

She let out a small purr, and accepted the cup of liquid she was given, curling up on the cushion with it.

"Ember?"

"Yes, sir?"

"The joint's not popping back into place, could you...?"


	3. Loose Ends, Part One

**So, this "prequel" really isn't being told in story form, it's moreso just a reference guide full of short stories that answer questions about the society in "Iron Fist, Iron Clad, Reign of Steel".**

* * *

_You don't know._

_You don't know what it was like before. Before the riots. Before the revolution._

_Before Prowl._

_You couldn't possibly know what it was like during the time of the Senate. During the rule of the Last Of The Primes._

_The world was in a war. A tyrant called Megatron had overthrown the government of Trypticon. He began a rebellion, and his followers became known as Decepticons. The Senate was doing all they could to keep him at bay, and based themselves in Iacon._

_The Senate. The "noble" Senate._

_Nominus Prime, The Oppressor._

_Nova Prime, The Expansionist._

_Sentinel Prime, The Militarist._

_Zeta Prime, The Executioner._

_They were directly descended from the Thirteen, and they made certain that they would be the last._

_Of course, they had the other city officials: Prowl, Medicus, Rattrap, and a few other big shots, but they were but pawns._

_When Zeta had an affair with one of the secretaries that worked in the Records Hall, she'd shown up to his office one day with something that could've destroyed not only Zeta's political career, but the plans he and his brothers had made._

_Zeta's son, Optimus._

_The death of the sparkling was publicized as "tragic", "a dark time for the Senate". It earned them all of the sympathy they could possibly want. It was a scandal to end all scandals. It was well-covered, true enough, but not so well-covered that Prowl couldn't expose what they had done._

_Once the news came out, someone slaughtered the Last Primes in cold Energon. Riots broke out everywhere. The streets weren't safe anymore. The city fell into chaos. The rest of the Autobot world would have as well, if not for our savior._

_Prowl._

_He'd been the brilliant, if not somewhat reclusive, even eccentric Chief of Police. He'd been wounded in the line of duty and continued to do his job, even dispite the fact that his injury should've been completely crippling, which put him at a status equivalent to a war hero._

_Everyone knew where he'd come from: all of the tabloids had tried to do an exposure, but had found nothing humiliating. _

_You don't understand: before all of this, over half of Iacon was poor, homeless, or in some other way suffering. It was seventy percent. Twenty-five percent were living comfortably, and only four percent, mostly the military and anyone who actually worked for the government, were living the best. One percent was the government._

_Then, Prowl changed everything._

_He stamped out the riots. He redistributed the common wealth, so that there were no more economic classes. Merely Workers and Soldiers. Workers were divided up based solely on occupation. City Workers, Domestic Workers, Entertainers, you get the idea._

_Those who could not take care of themselves were relocated to planned communities where they would recieve the care they needed while still maintaining as independent a life as possible. The elderly, and handicapped 'bots who just couldn't survive in the workforce, whether their handicap was physical, or mental._

_Under Prowl's command, the army not only keeps the Decepticons at bay, but freed the territory of Praxus from Decepticon oppression. We send provisions to them, and recently, we made them a part of the Iacon territory. We now call this state Iacon-Praxus, and the boarders have been fortified so that the Decepticon menace cannot attack easily._

_And "Prime" has become nothing more than a rank in the Army, being the highest rank you can attain, but it gives you no real power._

_That's why Prowl is the best thing to happen to Cybertron since Primus Himself._

~~  
Grapple looked up from her notes at the end of her report, looking toward the professor.

"Thank you, Grapple, you may be seated."

"A very well-delivered report, young one," a voice said from the back of the lecture hall.

The entire class turned around, surprised, to see a dark female with a burning red visor walking forward.

Every student rose to his or her feet, and the professor walked out from behind his desk.

"That's Nightbird!" one mech whispered to the femme beside him. "She's the Head of National Security!"

"What's she doing here?" the femme whispered.

"I don't know!"

"I will have silence in my presence," Nightbird hissed, looking over her shoulder. "Now. I am searching for a fugitive by the name of Red Alert, and I have read that he has a relative in this class. A daughter by the name of Firestar. Is she present?"

The whispering femme shyly raised her hand. "Here, Ma'am..."

"Please come with me."


	4. Loose Ends, Part Two

**So, this, plus chapter three and the next couple chapters is gonna be a mini-story. I feel like I need to explain what's up with Red Alert. I based the Underground concept on the tube system in London. Which is likely the same as any other subway/Underground/Metro system. Sorry.**

* * *

Firestar looked around, biting her lower lip component. "Where are we going?"

"Do you have an Underground card?"

"Well... yes... but..."

"Good, because traffic is awful, I do not wish to be seen on the street, and the shuttles are nearly abandoned at this megecycle of the solarcycle." Nightbird padded toward the nearest station. "Come with me."

Firestar followed her. "Can I please ask what you need from me?"

"Not in an unsecure location."

"... where would be a secure location?"

"I will give you a hint: the Underground is the least secure location in Iacon." Nightbird flashed her card to the attendant, who nodded, snapped off a salute, and opened the gate to let her through. Firestar followed her, and they boarded one of the shuttles.

**  
Firestar heard the door hiss shut behind her, and bit her lower lip component. "What's this about my sire, then? What do you need from him?"

"We have some concerns regarding him, nothing to worry about. We need to know, however, where he is. Do you know?"

"He should be home... but Miss Nightbird, my sire's not well... not _mentally_, anyway... _please_ tell me what's wrong, I'm getting worried."

"Oh, no, no, there is no reason to be worried." Nightbird stood from her chair. "No, no reason at all. Now, if you would follow my associate Nightbeat here, he will take you to a waiting area where you can wait for your creator to come and get you."

Firestar turned around to see a dark mech standing beside the door. "How did... _please_ Miss, I need to know what my sire's done wrong..."

"It is none of your concern, now I insist that you follow Nightbeat, before I become angry." She examined the manicured ends of her fingers. "You seem very nice, and I do not want you to see me angry."

Firestar was eventually escorted away, and Nightbird glanced up as her partner entered the room. "Yes, Nightbeat?"

Nightbeat crossed his arms.

"Oh I forgot. No glossa means no proper speech." Her partner gave her a look of pure hatred, but she ignored it. "Now, if you please, I need you to retrieve Inferno."

* * *

**Oops. Nightbird's a bitch. Sorry.**


	5. Loose Ends, Part Three

**So, this is completely irrelevant to the story, but I feel it will enhance the experience of reading for Nightbird. Her voice, I picture, is like that of Harley Quinn as she's played by Tara Strong. I actually picture her as Harley in Arkham City and Harley Quinn's Revenge, with the fanatical devotion to Prowl and the sadism, and the everything. And the level of crazy. That too.**

**Nightbird = Harley Quinn. Mind = Blown.**

* * *

Red Alert felt himself thrown into room, and looked around once the sack had been removed from his head. A collar was clamped around his neck, and he was attached to the wall by a chain.

The room was dimly lit. The door was shut, and there was nothing and no one in there. The only light in the room came from a small section of the floor that seemed to be a gaping hole. He crawled over to it. Before he could peer into the hole, however, the slack on his chain cut out, and he found himself yanked backward.

He heard a sickeningly sweet laugh, and a voice rang over a speaker system in the room.

"_Well well well, Red Alert. It is _so _nice to have you here._"

"What are you doing?! Why am I here?!"

"_Hm. Oh my. It _seems_ you are trying to speak to me, but for some reason, the intercom on your end is _not working_. Well, I _suppose_ you will just have to _tolerate_ listening to me. I apologize that you were not informed of anything upon being arrested, but I had _no idea_ that your arresting officer was incapable of speech._"

Red Alert growled, tugging at his collar.

"_Red Alert, you are being charged with conspiracy to committ treason, spying on a _long list_ of government officials, including the Head of Security and Prowl himself._"

"You can't do this! I have a mate and daughter!"

"_And if you are worried about Inferno and Firestar, do not be. We have them here until we release you._"

"I don't believe you, Nightbird, _where are they?!_"

"_I know that you quite likely do not believe me. Please take advantage of the extra slack on your chain, and look down through the opening in the floor. You _will_ find them alive and well, I _assure_ you._"

Pfft, yeah, right, like you'd give me extra slack to move

. Red Alert crawled over, though, and found that he _could_look into the hole.

Inferno and Firestar were there, all right, Firestar doing her homework and Inferno reading.

"_You see? They are just fine. You are, likely, wondering why you are restrained and they are not. Well, frankly, Red Alert, it is because you are a danger to yourself and others, and it is due to this fact that I do not feel safe letting you run about._"

"You can't do this! You have no authority! _DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!_"

"_As of now, you are being stripped of your position as Head of Autobot Intelligence. Red Alert, do you know that there are millions of planets?_"

"... What does that have to do with-"

"_There are millions of planets. Millions of planets revolving around millions of suns revolving around millions of galaxies._"

"... What are you doing."

"_All revolving around one fixed, central point_. _That point? It is not you_."

"What does that have to do with-"

"_You probably do not know what I mean by this, in fact, it would not surprise me at all. I simply mean that you need to look at the big picture. You are being held here, yes, but not for interrogation. You are being held for an atitude adjustment_."

* * *

**See, guys? Firestar's fine. I didn't do anything to her. She. Is. Fine.**


	6. Loose Ends, Part Four

**There is no appropriate place to put these notes. So, they went in the beginning. I'm going to warn you, there's robot gore in here. I literally did not hold back much this time.**

* * *

"Attitude adjustment" wasn't the phrase Red Alert would use.

The seventy-fourth needle pierced his arm, and he gritted his dental plates to keep from screaming. That was what Nightbird wanted, and he wasn't about to give in. Sure, his once-silver plating was colored violet with his own mech fluid, but he knew from working with Nightbird that she would let up to revel in her own satisfaction if she got the screams she wanted.

Nightbird herself frowned, catching on to his game quicker than he would have liked. "Well, Red Alert, if you will not respond to _me_, perhaps you will respond to your family."

Red Alert's temperature skyrocketed, and his siren yelped. "No! You leave them alone!"

"It is too late for them, Red Alert." She looked over her shoulder and clicked something at the blacked-out window.

Two sets of hidden doors opened in the walls, and revealed Inferno and Firestar. They were chained to the floor in the center of their respective alcoves, Inferno on all fours and held down by his neck and ankles, and Firestar kneeling with her arms behind her back, a collar and chains around her neck, chained to the floor so she could at least be upright.

"Nightbird, you let them go!" Red Alert yelled.

He was ignored as the female sauntered over to Inferno. A subspace pocket clicked open on her hip, and she withdrew a red electrowhip. Inferno looked up fearfully at the sound of the crack as she brought it through the air, well, as much as he could, and flinched away from her.

"Please," he begged. "Please just let us go... we didn't do anything..."

"As agonizing as it is to punish the innocent for the crimes of the guilty, I am afraid I am left with no alternative," she said coldly. She brought the whip down on his back, and he yelped. Red Alert looked away.

**  
Inferno had collapsed to the floor and curled up, trembling, as Nightbird circled him. Like a turbofox would circle a wounded petro-rabbit. "Hm. I cannot break you so easily, can I? That is no fun at all. Well, luckily, I have another plaything at hand."

Firestar...

Red Alert thought, panicked. "Nightbird, please! She's just a youngling!"

"You might have thought of that before now, Red Alert." Nightbird crossed to the female and stood behind her for a nanoklik, before kicking her squarely in the small of the back. Firestar hit the floor face-first, and Nightbird leaned against the wall as the younger feebly tried to pick herself up. When she was incapable, Nightbird sneered.

"Get up! Look at me!"

Firestar couldn't.

The darker finally pulled her back into her kneeling position. The whip was suddenly in her hand again, and she landed a strike to the younger's torso. Nightbird remained stationary now, perhaps because she had a height advantage, and continued whipping the younger female. Every time Firestar cried out, Nightbird's visor seemed to glow brighter. After what seemed like an eternity, Red Alert managed to tear his optics away from the scene.

But he could still hear his daughter's agonized pleading.

"No... please... please, have mercy..."

"Excuse me? I did not hear you."

"M-Mercy..."

"What was that?"

"Ahn! I said mercy!"

"Hm?"

"MERCY!"

He could almost picture Nightbird's expression. Her mouthplates twisted in a sick, sarcastic smile. He knew she would ignore Firestar's cries, of course she would. And she did.

**  
She soon grew bored of Red Alert's lack of reaction, and finally ceased. She sighed. "I really had hoped that this would not happen. But, you leave me no choice."

She looked toward the window again, and chittered. Nightbeat entered the chamber, and Nightbird nodded toward Firestar. She herself crossed to Inferno, repositioning him so that he was forced upright, and his head locked so he had to look into Firestar's alcove. She joined her partner, who was holding onto the young female's head. He tilted it back, exposing her throat.

Her fluid lines.

Nightbird turned to the elder mechs. "It is always tragic to see a young life cut short. Especially a youngling being punished for the sins of her sire. But you, Red Alert, have betrayed us all for what you have done. And for that, you must be punished."

Red Alert let out an actual scream of anguish. "No! Please! Nightbird, let her go! Do whatever you want to be, but don't hurt my daughter!"

His screams were unheeded. Nightbird got onto one knee beside the young female, and whispered to her. "Offline your optics, and count backward from twenty."

The terrified adolescent nodded, and obeyed, counting aloud. Nightbird backed away, maintaining her predatory crouch.

In one swing of Nightbird's left leg, Firestar's veins were opened by her bladed heel, and vital fluid sprayed forward in a multi-colored fountain, showering her executioner. The adolescent's body jerked, convulsing for several nanokliks, and finally was still.

Inferno let out a guttural bellow of unbridled agony. Nightbird turned to face him, and advanced on his alcove. "Hush now," she said in a mockery of a soothing tone. "You will be with her soon enough. But first..." She looked over her shoulder at Red Alert. "Look your mate in the optics, and lie to him."

"What?"

"Lie to him. Tell him it will be all right."

Red Alert's optics met Inferno's, and he tried hard not to sob out the next words. "Inferno... I love you. And it's gonna be all right. Everything's gonna be all right."

Inferno nodded slowly, tears pouring down his cheekplates. Nightbeat scurried around to pull his head back as well, and Nightbird, expressionless, backed up to repeat her kick, to slit Inferno's throat as she had his daughters.

When the spray of fluid had slowed to a trickle, Nightbird, abandoned by Nightbeat and drenched in vital fluids, advanced on Red Alert. "You are a traitor," she informed him, prying open his Spark chamber. "Traitors must be punished."

Her smile was horrible. Rust-coated madness. Innocent insanity. She reached both hands into his chest, and, rather than going for the inner Spark casing, went for the central fluid pump. With a tug, the component was tossed over her shoulder, and she walked away, leaving the mech to bleed to death, his dead family the only comforts in his last cycles.


	7. Nightbeaten

**-cuddles this fic- Oh, baby, I've missed you! So much! Baaaabbbbbyyyyyyfiiiiiicccc! -cuddles it more-**

**I get way too attached. Note about the thing at the end, though, ah, I did actually hold onto my own tongue and speak, and it did not sound like that, but I figured it sounds better, and Transformer glossas work weird.**

* * *

Nightbeat looked at his partner, frowning, as she appeared in the sleeping quarters the mechs shared to make certain that they were all present.

He recalled, less-than-fondly, exactly what their circumstances were.

~~  
_"But, sir... I haven't got a sister," Nightbeat said, looking up at his superior._

_"Yes, well, ah, that would be the catch, now wouldn't it?" Prowl stood, clicking something harshly over his shoulder._

_Nightbeat blinked as he watched the female enter. "Sir... I can't work with her! It's not even possible!"_

_"Hush. Now, I know your reputation, your lack of ability to keep secrets, so... Nightbird's here to take care of that. And she is your superior officer."_

_"Sir!"_

_"I said shush."_

_"Sir, I really can't-"_

_Prowl rose from behind his desk. "If I must tell you one more time to be silent, Nightbeat, you will regret it."_

_"But sir-"_

_Prowl snarled. "Nightbird."_

_The femme pounced on Nightbeat, pinning him to the wall. "You had best do what you are told. You never know when I may lose my temper."_

_"Frag you, why don't you get back in the refectory?"_

_She growled, and blades sprung from the ends of her fingers, but Prowl snapped his fingers, and she released Nightbeat, retreating to Prowl's left side._

_He put a hand on her neck and looked back at Nightbeat. "Now, Nightbeat, I only intend to help you. Your past difficulty in keeping information condential may get you killed in the future. I'm trying to protect you."_

_"What're you gonna do? I'm a squealer."_

_"Well, we're not going to do anything that'll put you off work for more than a few cycles, I assure you." Prowl snapped again, and Nightbird came at the dark mech, punching him unconscious._

_**_  
_He came to strapped to the wall in an underground chamber, and found his mouth forced open by some strange device. One of Nightbird's fingerblades was extended, and she was reaching into his mouth. He let out a loud yell, and Prowl chuckled from the corner of the room._

_"Now, Nightbeat, surely you're smart enough to know when you're stuck? If you just sit still and don't struggle, we won't remove anything we don't intend to."_

_Remove? What were they removing?!_

_Nightbeat contiued to struggle, and finally, Nightbird let out a loud engine rev of frustration. "He will not hold still!" she complained._

_Prowl sighed. "You just can't get mechs to comply, can you? Nightbird, just pull, if you don't just get his glossa, that's his fault."_

~~~~  
"All right, femmelings! Recharge!" she snarked loudly, leaning on the doorframe. She gave them about a klik to scramble to their bunks before she shut off their lights. Nightbeat turned over in the darkness, sighing.

"Awh geht oo fawh wha oo i coo e..." he lisped to himself, scowling at the door through which Nightbird had left.

* * *

**Quick poll: Who wants to see a punishment fic for Nightbird? I've got one in the works, but I'll scrap it if no one wants it.**


	8. Failure and Punishment

**All right, I did a thing. Look at the thing. It's like a chapter, but with more greatness.**

**Nightbird. You had one job.**

**Just a note, in the last chapter, Nightbeat did tell her to get back in the kitchen.**

* * *

"You had one job. One job. And instead, you let yourself be distracted. You are better trained than that." Fingers closed around a delicate wrist, and the smaller figure was pulled up. "You. Had. One. Job," he snarled directly into her face.

She whimpered as her visor was ripped from her face and Prowl's feline optics burned into her violet ones. Prowl kept this optic contact up for an agonizing klik, before releasing her wrist and pointing to the door in the corner of the room. "Cellar. I want you in the corner until I have decided on the appropriate discipline. Kneeling. No lights on. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" She scrambled toward the door.

**  
She'd been down there in the dark for what felt like forever before the red light flared to life overhead. She did not turn, however, until he clicked for her to come to him. She turned around and crawled across the floor to him, kneeling at his feet.

"I've decided on your punishment. Tomorrow, this cellar will be cleaned. Every part of it. With a dental brush. Not yours, but there is a spare that you will use. As for the rest of the lunarcycle..." He paused, looking down at her. "Up."

She sprang to her feet obediently. He was quicker than she was, clamping a collar around her neck with the leash preclipped to it, pulling her back to the corner where she'd just spent a grand total of a megacycle and a half. He clipped the connector end of the leash to a hook on the wall and clicked harshly.

Nightbird dropped back to her knees, leaning forward so her forehead touched the floor between her hands.

She barely had a klik to process before she felt her electrowhip removed from her hip compartment, and heard the distinctive click of the fall splitting into its hyrda mode. She tried not to whimper, but failed.

When the muffled sound drifted up to Prowl's audios, he scowled. "Silent, or it'll be worse."

She gritted her dental plates.

"It'll be five lashes. If you're quiet, that's _all_ it'll be."

She nodded a little, but found it difficult when he brought the barbed tips of the electrowhip down onto her back. She felt the armor crack, and jerked a little in response. The second lash dug deeper, and she felt fluid leak from the gouges.

**  
He released her a short while later. "Cold shower," he ordered. "And clean yourself up. Then you are permitted to retire to your space. And you know the rule: you are not permitted to walk until your punishment is complete. You will crawl."

"Yes," she responded.

"Is there something you'd like to say?"

"I wish to thank my Master for loving me enough to correct me," she said toward the floor, only loud enough to be heard. She kept her optics on the floor until she was dismissed, at which point she vanished from the cellar as fast as physically possible.

**  
Nightbird hissed as the cleaning fluid mingled with the mech fluid and Energon leaking from her back, washing into the wounds. He'd cracked the armor, she'd have to get it fixed, but her main concern was her anger at herself.

She'd been assigned to track down and kill a pair of suspected traitors, twin femmes named Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Instead, the appearance of Nexus, an old rival from her days as a nurse at the mental health clinic, had distracted her, and the femmes she was to be pursuing had vanished.

"Come on, Ember, how could you have been so stupid?!" she scolded herself.

She finished her shower, dried, and ambled to her assigned space, which was a small alcove just off of Prowl's recharging chamber. Just outside the door, actually. That way, anyone who intended to sneak into the leader's chamber had to pass her.

Inside, there was only a cushion and a small trunk where she kept her spare armor, alias, the armor that marked her identity transformation, and other small possessions. There was sometimes a blanket on top of the trunk, if she was allowed it. She was apparently not being allowed it now.

There had been a curtain across the front of her space, to hide it from the maids (she explained it away by saying it was a "reading nook"), and to keep in the heat that ghosted out of the vent on the ceiling, because she didn't generate enough of her own heat to keep herself warm. The curtain had been taken down, though, as part of her punishment.

She knelt in front of her trunk, prying it open with numb fingers and sifting through the contents.

Two spare sets of shin guards, a spare set of palm guards, three spare visors (they cracked more often than not), two spare arm guards, polishing kits for blades, visors, and armor itself, a digital holoframe that contained her personal holoscans, a few small blades, a set of throwing stars, her electrowhip (obviously, Prowl had been in here as well), and a small collection of reading tablets.

She put her armor away and climbed up onto her cushion. She curled up on her side, careful not to touch her back to the material.

**  
She awoke to a significant temperature drop, and shivered. She heard a sound in the hallway, and peered out. Prowl was returning from the refectory, of course he was, she hadn't been able to prepare his evening astringent. He stopped, and looked down at her. "Are you cold?"

She shifted to the kneeling position, and kept her head bowed. "Does Master wish me to be cold?"

"No. I don't. You'll get sick. Come."

She kept to her knees, crawling behind him as she followed him to his quarters. He permitted her to follow him in, and pointed to the foot of his berth. "Up."

She climbed onto the place where she was told to be, and curled up. He folded the top blanket down over her, and settled himself under the the underblanket.

Ember sighed slightly, nuzzling into the blanket. She dared to look up toward where the mech was settling down. "Thank You, Master," she said softly.

"Recharge," he ordered. "You still have to clean the cellar."

"Yes, Sir," she responded, offlining her optics.


	9. Slave, Part Two

**These next couple chapters are in story form like the bits with Red Alert were. I figured I'd explain how Prowl went from knowing nothing about BDSM to being a Dominant. And I acknowledge that I may be doing it wrong.**

* * *

It had been three quartexes, and Prowl had been nothing short of distracted by the curious case of the nurse from the asylum. The healing scratches on her back. She'd said it was part of her lifestyle. What lifestyle was she talking about?

He looked at his computer, and narrowed his optics, before searching "lifestyle in which one romantic partner is encouraged to whip another".

Within several cycles, he'd located several DataNet pages on a lifestyle known as B.D.S.M., which was not, as he'd thought, a "lifestyle in which one romantic partner is encouraged to whip another", but something completely different. It was something he had seen before, but had never known the words to explain with.

And the club that the pretty nurse had mentioned? He found the DataNet page for it, and was checking it out. It was called Sins and Chains, and you needed to be a member, or you needed to know a member.

But, according to the things he'd read, he might not be able to correctly identify the nurse. Some lifestylers chose new names, and while he didn't know whether the nurse was a Dominant or a submissive, it wouldn't have done him much good either way.

Still... he had to try...

**  
It took him two and a half megacycles to find it, but when he did, there was no one outside of the entrance but a lone bouncer. This was a large yellow mech with a cone-shaped head that Prowl had actually seen in a holding cell several times, but never for more than a cycle or two.

The bouncer looked him over. "Can I help you, officer?"

"I'm looking for a club called Sins and Chains."

"Why're you lookin' for it?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you."

"Are you a member?"

"No, but I know one."

"Name?"

"... Mine or hers?"

"Hers."

"... She introduced herself as Ember, but if she goes by a different one... Look, I only need to speak with her."

The bouncer turned, vanishing into a hidden door, and Prowl sighed. "Of course."

Several cycles later, the bouncer returned, with the dark nurse in tow. She peeked up at Prowl, and her optics blinked. "Oh! Hello."

"Hello." Prowl looked her over, and nearly asked exactly why she was shackled, but then remembered what he'd read and cast the thought away. "Did I interrupt?"

"No, no, he was finished. Is there something I can do for you, sir?"

Prowl gestured to the bouncer. "Can you get me in? I'd like to talk."


	10. Slave, Part Three

**I'm not even sorry anymore. Really. I'm not. I'm not even sorry, and I regret nothing.**

* * *

Ember led him through a twisting labrynth of activity before coming to a vacant room. Rather, she directed him while he pretended to lead her ("I must keep up appearances, and it seems odd if a Mistress is shackled"). She let him into the room, locking the door behind them. Contained within was a berth, a table, and a couple of chairs.

She got herself out of the shackles and set them on the berth. Prowl looked over at her as she settled herself on the floor, and he leaned on the table. "So."

"So," she returned. "Since you are _clearly_ not here for play, I should think that your curiousity has gotten the better of you."

"I did do some research, but a few of my questions, I think, are best answered by someone with life experience."

"Fire away."

"First: Is it true that all participants must be hardcore lifestylers in order to be considered legitimate?"

"No. Some only dabble in the practice every now and then, some only indulge their fantasies in clubs or dungeons, and some restrict their play to normal intimacy. There are also varied degrees of lifestylers."

"Second: How does one approach someone for this type of relationship?"

"One usually advertises themself, or browses for possible partners in dungeons. Why? Are you interested?"

"Simply curious. How does one get involved in the life?"

"Usually by deciding to indulge a curiousity, or by entering a relationship with a practicioner."

"Why do you do it?"

She was quiet for a moment, and finally gave him a playful grin. "You were a detective. Figure me out."

Prowl studied her. What did he know?

Fact One: She worked as a nurse in a lunatic asylum.  
Fact Two: She was a practicioner of B.D.S.M.  
Fact Three: Her body language suggested that she processed his words quickly and without thinking about them, suggesting her status as a submissive

.

He had three facts at best.

... He didn't know _anything_.

"I don't know enough about you to even infer."

Ember smirked. "I am a submissive, as well as a sadomasochist. A few practicioners that I am acquainted with have suggested that I consider changing my role to a Switch, but I could never be a true Mistress."

"... you still haven't given me enough information. I've solved _murders_ on less."

She shook her head at him. "I work with the mentally ill. Thus I have obviously studied how the mind works. If I _knew_ how to explain my attraction, believe me, I would. My coworkers who know of my life choices have called me insane. But... you _do_ know the clinical definition of insanity?"

"Insanity: the state of being seriously mentally ill; madness; extreme foolishness or irrationality."

"Correct. I should like to clarify that my life choice does not place me into any of those categories."


	11. Hide And Go Mad, Part One

**Oh, it appears I've begun paying attention to this again. Whoo. So, this is the start of another miniseries within this collection. Now you get a glimpse of Ember/Nightbird's mind.**

* * *

"_Now, you're going to do your job this time, aren't you?" Prowl had said, half-menacingly, tilting the female's chin up with one finger so they locked optics. "You know that I simply can't have those troublemakers running about the city."_

"Yes, sir," she had purred obediently. "I will not fail this time."

Which was exactly why she'd been gone for three solarcycles, tracking her targets, stalking them like a predator stalking prey.

And she knew she was close. This compound, once the very mental institution where she'd been employed, had been abandoned for centuries, and made the perfect hideout. Even now, Nightbird had no idea why Prowl had ordered this place terminated. She was merely assigned the task of leading in the strike team.

It was not her place to ask questions.

She knew they were here. Once you got into this hospital, the only way out was death. She knew that all too well. Perhaps not literally, but that was more often the case. Either way, the only way in without a camera was caved in now, and would take megacycles to clear.

She started with the Chronic ward, which was the entrance level. Her bladed heels clicked quietly enough on the cracking floor so that she could be heard, but it was nearly impossible to tell where she was. She trailed her claws over the main desk.

The accursed Head Nurse's station.

Sunspot.

That glitch had been the first to go when this wretched place was raided and shut down. Prowl had allowed her the honor of dispatching Sunspot _personally_.

~~~  
_"Ember? Ember, is that you?"_

_Nothing was said. She merely stared down the gold femme, the team filing in behind her._

_"... Ember...?"_

_Nightbird could tell, her soldiers were chomping at the bit. Straining at the leash of her control over them._

_Sunspot had vanished, but Nightbird knew where she'd gone. She was too much of a coward to run. She strode behind the desk, and sure enough, there was Sunspot, pressed against the wall beneath the counter._

_"Look at you. You are pathetic," she snarled._

_"Ember, please! We're friends!"_

_Friends. Sure. She'd wasted no time in opening Sunspot's throat, letting her bleed. She raied her head, looking at the soldiers. Her visor burned into their optics as the order was given in her sharp, sweet staccato._

_"Kill."_

_The soldiers scattered. They had their orders. Patient, nurse, and doctor alike were to be destroyed._

_She felt a hand at her ankle, and saw Sunspot there, still bleeding, dying at her feet. Her pink optics were dimming, her voice fading as she pleaded for her life. "Ember..."_

_"Ember cannot hear you. Only I can."_

~~~  
She had to admit, she had no explanation for saying that. She wasn't two different femmes, one name was simply an alias. Ember was her true name. Nightbird was nothing more than a character name. Not a separate personality.

She wasn't mad.


	12. Hide And Go Mad, Part Two

**There's just something about Em and mental hospitals that feels so right.**

* * *

Chronic was a bust, there was no sign of life anywhere. She made her way up to Acute, frowning at the terrible condition of this floor. It wasn't even possible to walk across most of it, there had been several small collapses, so there were more holes than solid patches. She'd've heard them if they were upstairs from here, anyway. The top floor was all storage, and most of the roof was gone.

Those femmes were too smart to hide there.

She made her way downstairs, past Chronic, to Minimum Security. There were three floors below: Medium Security, Upper Maximum Security, and Lower Maximum Security. These cells were barren, devoid of even retrorats now.

Her foot hit a mass on the floor, and she looked down.

A body remained there. She turned it onto its back. The plating on the protected side of the body was bright pink. It was Hope.

Hope.

The only one of her coworkers that was worse than Sunspot and Nexus.

_"Ember? Can we talk for a nanoklik?"_

_"Certainly, Hope, what about?"_

_"Well... I didn't wanna say anything... but you've got the weirdest set of marks on your back. You're not one of those gross kinky interface freaks, are you?"_

_"... Why is it gross?"_

_"Well, it's weird! Like, the femmes let the mechs choke them and rape them and beat them up and stuff. It's not normal."_

_"... What you just said... is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. You are literally too stupid to insult. Were you always this stupid, or did you take lessons?"_

_"Why are you being so mean? I'm just telling you what's so wrong with it."_

Why was she still here? All of the bodies were to have been removed. The clean-up crew had started to slack off. Normally, she'd've been furious, made a mental note to report them. But it had been centuries since the raid. It was pointless now. Thus, Ember didn't dwell on it

She continued on, checking every cell, closet, and crevasse. No sign of them anywhere.

There was a sound from the floors below. The sound of a body hitting the floor as it tripped.

She made her way down to Medium Security, and finally to Upper Maximum. The cells were as empty as those on the floors above, but to an un-desensitized optic, these would be much more haunting.

There was graffiti etched into the walls, not by vandals, but by the inmates. Messages of impending doom, hopelessness, murder, suicide, confessions, pleas for mercy, pleas of innocence, insistences that the writer was completely sane, that there must have been a mistake...

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," she called softly, honestly surprised at how juvenile her voice sounded. "No? No matter. I _love_ games_._"


	13. Hide And Go Mad, Part Three

**I apparently write much faster when I'm raging, because I am very ragey. WHAT ARE YOU DOING, TRANSFORMERS PRIME?!**

* * *

:_Are you making any progress on the hunt?_:

She was hiding out in one of the cells. The message reminder, that flashed up to ensure that she was paying attention, scrolled across her visor screen, making her jump.

Prowl seldom called _her_ while she was on assignment. It was a rule: _she_ was expected to call _him_ to report on her own, with no reminders.

"I have found their hideout. We are having ourselves a little game of hide-and-seek."

There was a quiet chuckle from his end of the line. :_I know how you love games. And you're so very good at hide-and-seek. But do hurry, I'm getting a touch impatient._:

"I assure You, I will be home very, _very_ soon."

:_Good_:

He clicked off the comm. line and she turned her audios up to listen for her prey.

Her visor clicked to its heat-detection setting. There were two hot masses three cells to her right. If she pounced now, she was guaranteed to lose one of them. She _was_, after all, still outnumbered two-to-one.

"_Swipe, when can we get out of here? My leg..._"

"_I know, Sunny. I know. We'll get out as soon as she's gone._"

"_I can't feel it, Swipe._"

"_Can you move your toes? Move your toes for me, Sunny. Come on._"

"_Uhn... I can't! I can't..._"

"_Shhhh, don't be so loud. She'll hear you._"

"_She's walked past us like three times already._"

So, Sunstreaker was injured, hm? Only Sideswipe could run. So if she took Sideswipe out first... Sunstreaker would be left defenseless. Not much of a challenge, but it got the job done, albiet with much less fun.

"But then again," she said aloud. "Games are only fun to play when you are winning."

The chatter in the twins' cell ceased for a moment. Ember smirked, toning down her audios and ducking out of the cell she'd hidden in. She went directly in, dimming her visor and lurking in the shadows.

Her quarry was two femmes, that much she knew. But the holoscans she'd seen were nowhere near accurate enough now. Sunstreaker was known to be an extremely vain femme, taking nearly as much pride in her appearance as Ember's old friend Knock Out. In her holoscan, she had brilliant yellow plating, almost blinding in its shininess and bright blue optics. Now, however, her plating was so filthy from her time spent in hiding that you'd barely recognize her. One of her optics was cracked and offline, the other dimmed. Her left foot was almost completely severed from her leg, held on by a braid of wires, but oozing fluid and sparking. Sideswipe's holoscan had shown an athletic-looking femme, shining crimson, with twinkling green optics. Her plating was as scuffed and filthy as her sister's, and her optics were dim with fatigue.

"I heard her move, Swipe!" Sunstreaked whimpered. "She's found us!"

"Hush, Sunny. If she'd found us, we'd be offline already."

"Are you so certain of everything, Sideswipe?" Ember stepped into the light from the flickering overhead fixture. "An attitude like that will only cause you trouble."


	14. Hide and Go Mad, Part Four

**I realized that I've been neglecting this fic in favor of Transformers Prime ones. I'm sorry. I've finally decided to update it, however, and will try to do this more often. If there's anything you'd like to see in upcoming chapters, please let me know, either by PM or review.**

**Thanks, angelfaces!**

* * *

The ordeal was finished in a short time, both sisters curled in the corner, clutching one another in fear, remnants of their final, screaming moments. She touched the tip of her fluid-streaked index digit to her bottom lip component, lapping off some of the mech fluid.

_:I grow impatient.:_

"The deed is done, Master," she said sweetly.

_:Good. You've done well, my pet. Return, and there might be a reward for you.:_

"Yes, Sir." She hung up the comm. and looked over her fresh kill. She walked over to the bodies, removing the heads. Her Master would want proof.

**  
She returned home late, surely Prowl was already in recharge. Rather than wake the entire building by coming through the front entrance, she scaled up the outside to Prowl's living quarters. She slipped in through the window into the library, silent as the night, and started making her way across the room.

"Ember," the soft voice of her Master said as the light came on.

She squeaked, and turned to face him, dropping to her knees and bowing her head. "Master..."

"I waited. What kept you?"

"They were hiding in the abandoned asylum, Sir, in Trypticon," she explained.

"Mhm." He arched an optic ridge. "So the traitors have been terminated, then?"

"Yes, Sir." She held up the heads. "Terminated."

"Good." He stood, approaching her. He patted her head and removed her visor. "I believe you've earned yourself a reward. Dispose of those things, and then come to my chamber."

He left the library. She stood and followed, making her way to the refectory to dispose of the heads in the compactor. She then padded up to Prowl's chamber, knocking on the door.

"Enter, Nightbird."

She padded into the room, keeping her head bowed.

"Come here."

She took a step, and he stopped her. "Ah ah ah. Crawl." When she sank to her knees and started again, he smirked. "Good. Very good."

When she got to the edge of the berth, he curled his fingers under her chin and guided her up. "I can think of a certain pretty little pet who's recharging with her Master."

She smiled. "Thank you, Sir."


End file.
